


Princess In Silk Gowns

by Elemental_Fantasy_13



Series: Princess [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elemental_Fantasy_13/pseuds/Elemental_Fantasy_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madeline didn't expect things to be easy....just *easier*. She barely has time to hang up her cloak when they reach the royal palace before she's forced to hit the ground running. As if being formally introduced as the official crown princess, and the accompanying duties, isn't daunting enough. Now she's about to personally meet king Germania and prince Ludwig. *Gulp.* Sequel to 'Princess in Travel Gear'. PruCan, Spamio on the side. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess In Silk Gowns

    “We’re almost there,” Elizabeta said brightly, reining her mount in alongside Maple.

    Madeline looked up from her conversation with Gilbert, surprised. “Already?”

    The albino looked ahead, and grinned. “ _Ja_ , just a few more miles to the Capital. It will be nice to stay in one place for a while. That’s one good thing about being royal, Birdie. In the social season, the nobles come to you.”

   “It's not as fancy as what they have in Fantasha, but they are nice,” mused Elizabeta. “High ranking officials from all the tribes come to Berlin, but it doesn't last as long as the one in your country. The ambassadors all turn out too, and they're always in fancy clothes. You'd think eventually they'd figure out posturing doesn't impress his majesty.”

    “Eh, it's fun to watch them,” said Gilbert, grinning. Then he shook his head, switching back to German. “And it's a good time to catch up with the other tribes. By the way, any word from Schultz?”

    Elizabeta sighed, but mimicked the switch. “Only that the boarder is still secure. If Rus is planning something they are hiding it very well. Shouldn't we give her a break?”

    Gilbert shook his head. “No. We're almost there, it's all the more reason not to stop. Immersion is the best method. She might not like it, but it is working.”

    “I'm right here, you know,” protested Madeline.

    “German, Birdie, German,” Gilbert scolded.

    Madeline made a face. She had recently discovered Gilbert’s merciless side, which apparently extended to more than combat. He had gathered the entire squad before they crossed the boarder, giving them all a direct order to only speak to Madeline in German. They were welcome to talk to her, in fact he encouraged it, but only in German.

    She hadn't been thrilled about this, and had pulled him aside after to demand answers. He’d had the gall to actually _smile_ at her as he said, “You need all the practice you can get, Birdie.”

    ‘Practice’ as he called it, she got in abundance for the next week. Every village and town they passed through, every person she came into contact with, every single person who spoke to her used German. It irritated her to no end, but she grudgingly admitted it did seem to be working. Her vocabulary expanded, and her pronunciation improved. Elizabeta did have a few brief conversations with her in English, and every now and then Gilbert seemed to forget and use her native language, but both were rare.

    “I dreamed in German last night, you know,” she complained.

    Gilbert only laughed. “Good! That means it's working.”

    Madeline sighed. While it was rough getting a strange language forced down your throat, the method was effective. She wasn't about to openly admit as much, Gilbert would never let her forget it, but still. Madeline needed to know German, one way or the other. At least learning to read and write it had come much easier. She was still at a child-like level, she wouldn't be drawing up official documents any time soon, but she was making progress.

    The only downside was that Elizabeta had had to go through and neaten up a few things. Madeline knew Gilbert had taken pleasure in teaching her how to swear, but she hadn't realized he’d neglected polite formal German. Thanks to her, she could now formally great the king as well as impress a sailor.

    As the got closer to Saxon’s capital city, the road getting more crowded, Madeline became acutely aware of just how many people were staring. She knew it was foolhardy to hope they wouldn't, but still. She was in the middle of an armed escort ridding alongside the crown prince. It was one of the few upside to being daughter to one of the more obscure nobles back home, she never had to deal with crowds much. Only half of Saxon’s population was counted in the semi-nomadic tribes, the other half lived in towns and cities like Berlin. This meant there were plenty of people to watch as their group rode into the city.

    Madeline felt herself shrink into her travel cloak, reaching up to tug the cowl farther over her face.

    “Relax, Birdie,” urged Gilbert, beaming and waving. He called a greeting to what looked like a middle aged blacksmith, then turned to give her cloak a tug. “I know you're shy, but you can't hide forever. Let them see you.”

    Madeline hesitated, slowly reaching up to her hood. Reluctantly, she pulled it down around her shoulders. She wasn't comfortable with this, but it was one more thing she would have to get used to. It didn't help she felt herself plain compared to the other ladies she’d seen in court. They always seemed so glamorous and aloof. Madeline usually kept her long, honey blond hair in loose twin braids, and her lavender colored eyes were often considered to be more odd than appealing. She was on the tall side, her pale skin sun kissed and frame a bit less delicate due to spending more time away from embroidery hoops than most nobles thought proper. Madeline  could manage the more lady-like arts just fine, she just preferred hunting and hiking to sewing and making polite conversation.

    Gilbert leaned down, clasping hands with a bearded man with a wide grin. “Hanz, it's been ages. The boys still giving you trouble?”

    Hanz laughed. “Not anymore. I should have you scare _all_ my apprentices straight!”

    The prince straightened, looking stricken. “I don't have time! You take on as many troublemakers as not.”

    Hanz disappeared behind them, laughing.

    “Astrid!  How’s that roof holding up!”

    A woman with a little girl clinging to her skirts and a baby on one hip smiled up at them. “Wonderfully, thanks to you.”

    “What is awesomeness for? Beatrix, please tell me the best bar in Saxon is still running!”

    A plump woman sticking her head out of said bar waved to them. “Come by yourself and find out! And you still owe me a tab!”

    “I'll settle it tonight, promise.”

    “You say that every time!”

    Madeline watched Gilbert, fascinated. Sure Alice and her brothers made public appearances, went to the market, but nothing like this. Gilbert knew these people by name, and they knew him.

    She was still marveling over this when she heard heard a delighted shriek, followed by another of protest. Madeline turned in time to rein Maple in to an abrupt halt, making the mare balk as two small children ran between the horses of her escort. One, the girl, ran right up to a Maple with a cry of “Horsey!”, only to freeze and stare up at her in awe. She looked to be about three or four years old, her brother closer to ten or eleven. Said brother grabbed his sister as soon as she stopped, dragging her behind him and staring wide eyed up at Madeline.

    For a moment, Madeline was frozen. Then she realized everyone was staring at her, watching, waiting. The entire group had ground to a halt, a few soldiers cursing as they kept their mounts from rearing. Swallowing, trying to ignore all the eyes on her, Madeline dismounted to stand next to the children.

    Smiling kindly, she crouched down so she was eye level with the little girl, who was peeking out from behind her brother. In careful German, she said, “Hello. Do you have a name? Mine’s Madeline.”

    The two kids were clearly from the poorer part of town, their clothes well mended but old, worn. They were little more that well stitched rags at this point. The children themselves looked thin, weary, and in dire need of a bath.

    Peering up at her with big green eyes,mother girl said quietly, “Lilly, my name is Lilly.”

    “It's nice to meet you, Lilly. And….?”

    She turned her attention to the brother, who stood stiffly, weary eyes on her. “Vash, your majesty.”

    “Just Madeline, please.” Turning back to Lilly, she asked, “Would you like to meet Maple?”

    “Maple?”

    “My horse. She’s very nice, you just surprised her.” At least that was what she meant to say. Her German was still flawed, but understandable more often than not.

    Madeline offered Lilly a hand, smiling warmly. The girl hesitated, then reached out to grab Madeline’s fingers with a grubby hand. Straightening enough to walk, Madeline stepped back over to Maple, reaching up to put a hand on her bridle. She tugged the mare’s head down, Lilly watching in awe. With her free hand, she reached out to gently place it on Maple’s cheek.

    “Horsey,” she breathed.

    Maple snorted, blowing air at Lilly’s face, making her giggle.

    Chuckling herself, Madeline asked, “Would you like to ride her?”

    If Lilly had looked awed before, she looked worshipful now. Madeline took it as a yes, and gently lifted her up into the saddle. Lilly clung to the saddle horn tightly, but otherwise she looked absolutely delighted.

    Madeline looked down at the brother, Vash Lilly had called him. He still looked tense, but Madeline noticed the wonder slipping into his face. “Would you like to ride too?” she asked.

    He hesitated, then bowed stiffly, “Yes, your majesty.”

    Huffing, Madeline said, “I told you, just Madeline. Now up you go.”

    Once both were perched on her saddle, Lilly in front of her brother, Madeline took the reins to lead Maple. Turning to look back up at Gilbert, she asked, “Move out?”

    Lips twitching, he barked out the command to continue forward. As the escort got moving again, Madeline led Maple down the street, enjoying the chance to stretch her stiff legs. The crowd was finally stirring up some noise again, which put her at ease. She knew she’d have to get used to it, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

    A block later, more kids swarmed their escort, emboldened by the sight of two of their own in a nobel’s saddle. Without stopping the entire party, Gilbert and Elizabeta swung down from their saddles, snagging the bravest of the kids and putting them on their mounts. They laughed with glee, delighted with the apparent treat that was ridding a horse. The two Gilbert had lifted onto Heinz seemed particularly happy, as the battle horse was the tallest of the three.

    Madeline didn't know if there was a right or wrong way to handle things like this, but thus far no one seemed displeased with her handling if it. There were even a few soldiers reaching down to take one of the urchins keeping pace with them from the ground, setting them in front of them on the saddle. Was it odd? Probably. But did everyone appear to be enjoying themselves? It seemed so.

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    Madeline sat in front of a round, gilded mirror, trying not to fidget as a lady's maid finished with the single, intricate braid that would drape elegantly over one shoulder. It had been hard enough letting the plump woman help dress her and apply the face paint, but it had been well over an hour now. She knew it was proper, but that didn't make letting someone else dress her and spruce her up any less odd. At least she had been allowed to use one of her own lighter, summer dresses.

    This one was one of her favorites, an ankle length dress of soft blue silk, the trim done with navy embroidery, the bodice home to delicate vines stitched in white and navy blue thread. Madeline knew that one usually dressed in their absolute best when they were to be introduced to a king, but she’d talked the lady's maid into letting her wear a more subtle dress instead. Saxon, she decided, wasn't a country who put as much into the frills and trappings that plagued most courts. Maybe she could impress more by displaying restraint and conservation rather than flaunting wealth and prestige. Besides, the King, Gilbert’s father, had only seen her in a suit of armor. No matter what she did it would be an improvement.

    The lady’s maid, Helga, tied off the braid with a pale blue ribbon and draped it over Madeline's shoulder. She curtsied, then asked, “May I do anything else for you, my lady?”

    “No, thank you Helga.”

    She curtsied again, the scuttled out of the room. Madeline sighed, and carefully stood. She fiddled with her skirts, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. Chewing her lip, she stared into the mirror, not for the first time trying to convince herself she couldn't simply hide in here all day. This was it, she was in Saxon’s Capital, about to go to her audience with King Germania. She’d quite liked Berlin, and she was hopeful it wouldn't be as bad as her imagination had feared. So far she liked the people, and they seemed to like her.

    No sooner had Madeline talked herself into marching over to the door, though, than someone knocked rapidly on the wood. Hesitating, Madeline crossed the thick rug to the door, lifting the latch and pulling it open a few inches.

    Right outside, bouncing excitedly in place, was a petite girl about her own age. Lush auburn hair tumbled around her face and shoulders, her wide amber eyes as bright as her smile. She wore a simple green dress, the good make being the only indication she was more than a servant.

    “Hi! You’re Madeline, right? It's great to finally meet you! I know I should probably wait until you're formally introduced, but I was just too exited!”

    It occurred to Madeline that there might actually be formal applications for the skills she'd acquired dealing with an enthusiastic Alfred growing up. This girl only came up to her chin, but she had enough energy for someone twice her size. Her English was very good, but she had an unmistakable accent. She was undoubtedly from Italia, and there weren't many people from the southern kingdom in Saxon. Both Elizabeta and Gilbert had drilled her on the names and origins of the resident diplomats, the idea being to insult as few of them as possible, though as Madeline understood it the Saxon folk were always glad to remind you of their life story, retelling where they were from, what titles they'd earned. The foreign diplomats were more uptight and closed mouthed, at least they usually were. Princess Feliciana, it seemed, was not.

    “Yes, I'm Madeline. Please, come in.”

    “No, no, come with me,” urged Feliciana, grabbing Madeline’s arm and pulling her put. “It's time for your audience with the king! He's very nice, but he's like Ludwig, very strict. You can't be late or their faces turn red.” Giggling, she added, “It's funny, but not very good for them. Did you have a safe journey?”

    Madeline hurriedly pulled her door shut as the other princess half led half dragged her down the hall. “Yes, it went well,” she said, deciding not to mention the bandit/assassin incident. Elizabeta had pulled her aside one night, saying Gilbert had told her but they needed to keep it quiet for the time being. The king and his spymaster would be told when they reached the Capital, but that was it. The fewer who knew the better.

    “Great! I'm so glad. It's good that you're here, you're going to be very happy. The winters are colder than back in Italia, but it's still a beautiful country. The people are very nice, even if they don't smile much. I've been helping the cook, and the food has gotten much better. At first I was scared of Luddy, but he's really very nice. I think you'll like Gilbert, and that's always good. I think we got lucky, we didn't have to marry smelly old men. Are things going well with Gilbert?”

    It took her a minute to sift through all that, but when she did Madeline wasn't entirely sure how to answer. Yes she got along with the albino, but so far it was mostly companionable, like her and Elizabeta. They were on good terms, which was often the goal of royal marriages. If you couldn't marry for love, the reasoning was you could at least be friendly with whomever you sat alongside on a throne. Some couples didn't even have that much, so Madeline knew she was lucky. That said, she was a little weary about approaching him on a romantic level. For one thing, she had no practice to speak of with such things. For another, if it went sour the friendship they had now would very likely do the same. Yes she liked Gilbert, yes there was potential, but she wasn't eager to go any farther.

    “He’s…

    “You should know the answer to that, Birdie.”

    Madeline started, and Feliciana finally stopped to look behind them. Gilbert had apparently materialized, a wide grin on his face. It looked like he had also been to the baths, white hair still damp. He'd discarded his plain travel clothes for attire more appropriate for court, a pressed shirt and pants under a blue long coat with red trim, boots polished to a shine, sword at his waist, and Gilbird perched on one shoulder. Considering the ever-present fluffy yellow bird on the collar of his coat, he still managed to look quite handsome. Not that she dared say as much, if only because the last thing he needed was an ego boost.

    “I'm awesome! That will never change. Now come on, I'm too awesome to get scolded for being late.”

    With that, Madeline again found herself dragged through the palace halls by an overly enthusiastic companion. Gilbert moved even faster than Feliciana, who hurried behind them. This time Madeline had to pick up her skirts, almost running down several flights of stairs and into a more prestigious part of the palace.

    By the time they came to a halt outside a set of massive, elaborately carved doors, Madeline was flushed and had completely forgotten about being nervous. Rather, she pulled her hand free of Gilbert's grip to smack him on the arm.

    “What was that for? We weren't really _that_ late, and I didn't let Helga fuss over me for an hour just to run all over the place,” she informed him, hands on hips.

    Gilbert’s smile didn't fade, nor did he show a trace of guilt. Instead he offered her his arm, ruby eyes twinkling. “But you're not so nervous anymore, are you?”

  Madeline opened her mouth, then hesitated. Yes she was still nervous, but it wasn't quite as crippling as it had been. It didn't help that she was still a bit flushed from the dash through the palace. Reluctantly, she took the offered arm. Gilbert nodded to the guards, and they pulled open the doors. Feliciana winked at her, still smiling brightly, and half skipped over the threshold.

“Ready, Birdie?” he asked.

    Madeline took a deep breath, then nodded.

    With that, they stepped into the main audience chamber.

    Madeline knew she wouldn't be formally introduced to the court until tomorrow, but she felt this was even more important. This wasn't an assortment of random people she'd never met and would only need to smile for. This was her future father-in-law and brother-in-law, Gilbert's family. She'd be nervous no matter who they were, if only for that reason. She’d never met either of them, not really, but from what she understood Gilbert was the black sheep of the family. They were strict, tight laced, punctual, and more or less the opposite of the albino.

    Feliciana had taken up a position at the side of one of the two men standing at the end of the room. Both were tall, blond, blue eyed, standing ramrod straight, immaculately dressed, and staring mutely as she and Gilbert crossed the room, walking along the long, intricate carpet. King Germania was slightly taller than Ludwig, who in turn looked like he had an inch on Gilbert.

     Where the albino was built on lean lines, Ludwig was broader, bulkier. Madeline had a hard time believing just by looking that Ludwig was the younger brother. His hair was smoothed strictly back, his face wearing a stern expression. Their fathers long hair was slicked back as well, but as they got closer Madeline was able to pick out minor, unmistakable similarities between the three.

    Gilbert stopped a few respectful strides away, shoulders squared and head held high. In smooth, easy German, he said, “Father, Ludwig, I'd like to introduce Lady Madeline Jones of Quebec fief, Fantasha.”

    Steeling her nerves, Madeline slipped her arm free so she could dip a careful curtsy. “It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty,” she said in careful, formal German. It was remarkably relieving when she was able to get it out without stammering or slipping up.

    When she straightened, Madeline clasped her hands in front of her, waiting politely, heart pounding against her ribs.

    “Welcome, Lady  Jones,” rumbled the king. Ludwig remained quiet, watching her with that same, sternly blank expression as their father continued, “It's a pleasure to formally meet you. I hope my son didn't cause too much trouble for you.”

    Madeline fought down the urge to smile, feeling the tension start to leave her. “Not too much, your majesty.”

    “Hey,” protested Gilbert. “I'm not home a day and you're already ganging up on me?”

    To Madeline’s surprise, the King’s face cracked a hint of the smile. It was faint, a twitch of the lips and a slight crinkling around the eyes, but it was there. Suddenly Madeline wasn't quite so worried.

    “Blame yourself, Gilbert. You can be difficult to manage single handedly. My concern was as much for you being able to find someone suitable as it was being able to keep her.” Turning his attention back to Madeline, he said, “If he gets to be too much, don't be afraid to ask for help.”

    Madeline was trying to judge how to respond, and work out which response would fit her vocabulary, when Gilbert snorted.

    “Help? Birdie doesn't need help. She was just fine even before Elizabeta started giving her bad ideas.”

    King Germania arched his eyebrows. “Really?” He seemed to consider this, then mused, “I suppose I'm not surprised, considering the circumstances when we met you.”

    Madeline felt a blush creep up her face. Before she could speak, though, maybe stammer out an apology, something poked into her mouth. She was shocked as Gilbert hooked both index fingers under the corners of her mouth, pulling up the corners in a morbid mimic of a smile.

    For what it was worth, the king looked equally surprised. “What are you-

    Madeline was already on edge, but Gilbert’s antics made her snap out of old habit. Momentarily forgetting where she was, she grabbed both of Gilbert’s little fingers, prying them backwards at a sharp angle. Ignoring the stream of “Ow, ow, ow!”s, she released one hand and used her hold on the other to keep Gilbert off balance. With a well placed kick behind the knee supporting most of his weight, she was able to knock him heartily on his backside, releasing his finger at the last minute so it wouldn't snap. Gilbird, squawking, fluttered into the air. He circled over his master a few times, then settled on Madeline’s shoulder.

    “What's the matter with you?” Madeline demanded in angry English.

    Gilbert was grinning widely from his position on the floor. “See? Birdie is awesome. Even Gilbird likes her.”

    Madeline knew her face had to be bright red. How dare he embarrass her like that! He knew this was important, how could he still act like this?

    She was still frozen, when she heard a low rumbling behind her. For a minute, Madeline wondered how she could possibly be hearing honest laughter. When she turned to stare at the king, she found the man with a softened expression on his face, a warm chuckle rumbling in his throat. Ludwig had a sympathetic twist to his mouth, as if all too used to his brother’s antics. Feliciana was giggling delicately behind one hand.

    Madeline opened her mouth, but couldn't find anything to say.

    “It is nice to know he will be in capable hands,” said Germania. To his son, he said sternly, “Don't embarrass your wife in court. It's never worth it, I can assure you. Madeline, I’m afraid there is yet another stack of documents that require my attention, but if you wouldn't mind accompanying me to my office I would like to have a private word with you.”

    Gilbert, who was by now on his feet and rubbing his bruised backside, frowned. “What for?”

    The king gave him a stern look. “I simply wish to speak with my future daughter-in-law without you hovering.”

    Ludwig, who had until now remained silent, spoke up. “I would worry more about your own duties. You have been neglecting them for some time.”

    “Your brother is right. If memory servers there are more papers than desk in the office you like to neglect. Off with you, Gilbert, before I chain you to the desk.”

    Germania stepped forward, motioning for Madeline to follow as he strode back down the audience hall. She had to skip a few steps to keep pace, the king’s height giving him a much longer stride. Once outside, though, he did slow his pace a little.

    “I feel I should both welcome you and warn your,” he mused.

    Madeline felt a worried frown crease her face. “I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, your majesty.” Thankfully, her fallback sentence for the last week had a formal version.

    “I am pleased you're here, both as a king and as a father. It is reassuring to ensure good relations with Fantasha, and to know the crown will go into capable hands. I am also pleased Gilbert has found someone who has made him happy, though this is the reason I feel compelled to warn you. I assume you've had plenty of time to realize what you're getting yourself into in these last two weeks.”

    Hesitating, Madeline repeated, “Two weeks?” Happy? She made him happy? How could he tell? Was it because he was Gilbert's father? She was tempted to ask, but decided it wouldn't be appropriate. Maybe if she knew him better....and if he wasn't so intimidating still. Was it bad this worried her more than the king knowing his son had disobeyed his orders?

    “Yes, I'm aware of my sons escapade,” he said, sounding amused. “I always am, contrary to what he likes to believe. But I do want to discuss one of the occurrences on the first leg of your journey. It's troubling that you became a target before you were even officially made crown princess.”

   On that, at least, Madeline had to agree.

    “Relations with Rus have not been good for many years. The cease-fire was a temporary solution, we all knew as much. We have recovered, to some degree, but I'd rather not run my country into the ground to ensure victory. Even with increased aide from Fantasha, if this comes to war, it will not end well.”

    Madeline chewed her lip thoughtfully. Deciding to switch back to English, to avoid miscommunication, she said, “Your majesty, as you said, I'm not officially the crown princess yet. I don't mean to make light of an attempt on my life, but if no one knows about it, would it be possible to let it go?”

    The king gave her an odd look. “Most people take things such as assassination attempts quite seriously. I won't sweep it under the rug, but I do agree we should continue to keep that bit of information to ourselves. But I will not allow Rus to think we will ignore such things completely. If you wish, you will be kept out of it.”

    Madeline shook her head, switching back to German. “No. If I am to be this country's queen, I will be more than just a figurehead.”

    Germania’s mouth twitched in a small, barely noticeable smile. He came to a stop outside a large, plain door, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock it. As he opened the door for her, the king said, “I am pleased to hear it.”

   Madeline stepped inside the room, glancing around. It was an office, large and immaculately clean. There wasn't even any dust in the berms of light filtering through the large window overlooking the main courtyard. The walls were all full of maps and bookcases, the desk piled high with papers, but nothing was cluttered. The books were all organized, the papers in neat stacks, the dark wood of both desk and bookcases gleaming.

    As the door clicked shut again, Germania began, “If you're serious, you have a lot to learn. Your lessons will start today."

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    “Birdie, I can't feel my arm.”

    Madeline blinked, looking down. It wasn't until she tried to loosen her hold that she realized she had a death grip on Gilbert’s arm. Her own hand and arm had gone stiff, all but ironing creases into the prince’s shirt sleeve.

    “Sorry,” she said quietly, taking a shaky breath. “Why didn't you say something sooner?”

    Gilbert shrugged, smiling wryly. “I thought you'd relax eventually. Don't worry so much, Birdie, they love you.”

    Shooting him an incredulous look, she demanded, “What gave you that idea?”

    “Just trust the Awesome me, eh Birdie?”

    Madeline worried her lip, still uneasy. The event had been going on for over an hour, and she had been on edge the entire time. She had been in Berlin for just over a day, and tonight she'd been introduced to the court, officially recognized as the crown princess. Germania had been keeping her so busy, she hadn't had time to worry until Helga had started the extensive process of preparing her for a court appearance. At least now she fully understood how Gilbert could be such a slave driver: he'd learned from the master. He'd been drilling names and current event politics into her skull relentlessly, and the only reason she hadn't drowned in it all was because Gilbert and Elizabeta had started the process.

    The concept of the presentation was simple enough, just Gilbert escorting her and standing in front of everyone while the king made his announcements, followed by a lot of personal introductions. Madeline felt dizzy, swamped by the rush of information on top of what she'd been hit with that day. She'd actually started swaying a little, which Gilbert had noticed. She'd been extremely grateful when he'd excused then, taking her out to one of the balconies for some air.

    Now she detached from his arm, stretching her fingers out and bracing herself against the low, stone wall. The cool air washed over her face, the stones icy compared to the warm ballroom. The balcony looked out over the palace gardens, the gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of flowers up to them. The sun had set, the stars starting to peek out overhead.

    “I'm sorry. I should be better at this by now. Alice never mentioned how exhausting it was.” Madeline hadn't thought she could miss something as non substantial as a language, but she did. She wondered if half the exhaustion came from her brain working overtime to keep up with the names, faces, and a still new language. English or even French would be a relief. She didn't care if she got scolded for using either one at this point.

    Gilbert laughed. “You'll get used to it. Now do you see why I prefer fighting and hunting?”

    “ _Oui_ ,” she said wearily.

    “So join me, I'm sneaking out with Elizabeta’s patrol in the morning.”

    Madeline hesitated, then shook her head. Slipping back into French, she said, “I can't.”

    “Why not?” he asked, mimicking her switch. “You've been working hard, you deserve a break.”

    “Gil, I can't. I want to, but I can't.”

   “Because of my father? He’s used to it, he won't-

    “I can't afford to, Gilbert. I can't just say I'm serious about taking over duties and then run off. What does that say about me?”

    Gilbert sighed. “You can't stay in that office forever, Birdie. You need fresh air, you need to have fun. All work and no play makes Birdie very dull.”

    Madeline closed her eyes, turning her face to the breeze. “I'm sorry, Gil, but I'm not going. Maybe another time. Besides, you weren't much better on the way here.”

    “ _Ja_ , but it gave you an edge when you got here, didn't it?”

    “A little,” she admitted reluctantly.

    Gilbert reached over, toying with the end of her braid. Helga had done it in a loose French braid this time, going straight down her back. Madeline wasn't used to people, men especially, taking an interest in her hair. But so long as he didn't pull on it or start undoing it,she didn't really mind.

    “We're going to have to go back in there, aren't we?” she asked grimly.

    “We can wait a few minutes, if you want,” he said idly.

    Madeline fell quiet, listening to the murmur of voices coming through the open doors. She _really_ didn't want to go back in there. The only reason she'd survived the social seasons back in Fantasha was because she had minimized her time at events like this. Slip in just early enough not to be late, hang around the edges as much as possible, and leave as soon as it wasn't early enough to be rude. Now not only would she have to stay the whole time, but she was the center of attention.

    Behind her, Gilbert muttered something under his breath in annoyed German. She wasn't sure, but she thought it was, “They're late.”

   “What?”

    “Nothing.” Gilbert dropped her braid, heaving a sigh. “Come on, maybe I can get Elizabeta to bail us out.”

    Madeline shot him a surprised look as he grabbed her hand, pulling her back towards the ballroom. “I thought you liked having all the attention, _Monsieur_ Awesome.”

    Gilbert laughed at that. “I do, but it becomes annoying if it's all given by the unawesome. Especially if you don't like it.”

    “What does my not liking it have to do with it?” she asked, frowning.

    Gilbert just grinned, pulling her back into the ballroom. At least, he tried to. No sooner had he stepped over the threshold than someone behind them called, _“¡Espere!”_

    They both turned in time to see two people trot to the door of the balcony, breathing hard as the came to a stop. Madeline stared at them, surprised, but started when Gilbert laughed. He strode over to the other two young men, throwing an arm over their necks. There was a general mess of multilingual chatter and tangle of limbs, but gradually Madeline decided that this must be Antonio and Francis. Gilbert’s two best friends, and the reason he was fluent in so many languages. Not to mention the reason behind why the ‘Bad Touch Trio’ was infamous well into the Capital.

    Francis, the son of the Eiffel ambassador, was poking Gilbert in the ribs and demanding details about ‘the new lady’. He was the shortest of the three, if by a hair, and the most flamboyantly dressed. Both he and Antonio had dressed for the event, but he seemed to favor brighter colors and a fancier style. He had shoulder length blond hair, a closely shaven face, perfectly pale skin any lady in Fantasha would kill for, and bright blue eyes.

    Antonio, the nephew of the Madrid king, was more simply dressed, like Gilbert. His golden brown skin clashed with the fair and vividly white of his two companions, a wide cheerful smile spreading across his handsome face. Short, tousled, chocolate brown hair, and dancing green eyes were matched with an easy laugh, one that made it almost too easy to relax around the two. Still, it helped that Madeline recognized them. She'd never seen them personally, but Gilbert had told her plenty of stories.

    Antonio seemed to notice her first. He beamed at her, asking brightly, “Are you lady Madeline?”

    Resigning herself to a life-long attachment to the somewhat wild bunch, Madeline decided there was no harm in at least attempting to be civilized. Dipping a shallow curtsy, she said, “Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you. Gilbert has told me a lot of stories.”

    Antonio’s smile widened. “Nothing bad, I hope. Please, don't curtsy. A wife of Gilbert’s is a sister of ours.”

    Madeline didn't have time to appreciate the statement, or wonder why it made her blush, before Francis untangled himself. He swept forward, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. In fluent French he purred, “It is a pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady.”

    At that, she arched her eyebrows, not nearly as impressed as she was sure he was accustomed. In French, it sounded quite impressive, especially if you didn't actually know the language. ‘ _Il est un plaisir de rencontrer une si belle dame_ ‘, to be exact.  Elizabeta had warned her Francis was a flirt, something of a ladies man who didn't understand the word ‘no’ because he received it so rarely.

    In equally fluent French she said, “If you're trying to impress me, I’m afraid you will have to try harder. My French is much better than my German, lord Bonnefoy.”

    A very humorous look of surprise crossed Francis’s face. Antonio laughed as Gilbert openly cackled. “Be careful,” the albino warned. “Birdie is tougher than she looks.”

    “I can see why you like her, _amigo_ ,” said Antonio, clapping him on the shoulder. Bowing to Madeline as she freed her hand from the blond’s hold, he said, “It's nice to meet you, Madeline. Gilbert hasn't been mean to you, has he?”

    Madeline cracked a genuine smile as Gilbert elbowed his friend. “Nothing I can't handle. Did you two just arrive today?”

    “No. We're under house arrest at the Eiffel embassy,” said Antonio, giving Francis a dirty look. “Someone decided to flirt with the wrong noble. Now we can't come out for a week.”

    “How was I supposed to know she was married?” the man protested.

    “She had a husband, who you knew she came to the party with,” protested Antonio, exasperated. “You only made it worse when you tried to get out of it by flirting with _him_ too. I finally got Lovi to let me escort her, and I had to break it off because _you_ dragged me into _your_ mess.”

    Madeline glanced at Gilbert, who had untangled himself and stepped back to her side. “What's a Lovi?”

    The albino chuckled. “Princess Lovina Vargas of Italia. She's Feliciana’s sister. Their grandfather sent her here to see if Feliciana could get her interested in someone.”

    Madeline frowned. “She didn't mention a sister.”

    Gilbert only shrugged. “She's been hiding by the musicians. The Awesome me thought you had enough go to deal with without adding Lovina to the mix.”

    She had heard a few rumors, yes, but surely Lovina couldn't be that bad, right? Those same rumors had painted Gilbert as an immature prankster who turned both brilliant and merciless on the battlefield. Yes he _could_ be, on both accounts, but it was under control…usually.

    Madeline chewed her lip thoughtfully, one eye on the crestfallen Antonio. She glanced around, noting the guards scattered around the entrances. Not many, but a few. In Fantasha there would have been twice as many, easily, but the a majority of the people here were warriors of some sort, even the ladies. It wouldn't be that hard to duck them, especially if you could blend in.

    Stepping forward, Madeline offered Antonio a hand and a smile. “May I have a dance, lord Carriedo?”

    All three of them looked a little surprised, but etiquette and training kicked in, and Antonio took her hand with a bow. Gilbert let them go, but a deep frown had set in his face. Madeline tried to swallow the giddy surge she felt, realizing the jealousy for what it was. Normally the thought wouldn't have ever crossed her mind, but she knew that look. She'd seen it on Alfred more than once. She wasn't doing this because she was interested in Antonio that way, but that didn't change the unanticipated reaction it got.

    “Is this a good idea?” the Madridian asked as they joined the other dancers in the middle of the room.

    Madeline chuckled. “I like you, Antonio, but I can like a man without having romantic feelings for them. Gilbert should understand that. Does Lovina like to dance?”

    His face softened immediately. “ _S_ _í_ _,_ but she doesn't like to admit it.”

    “Is there one dance in particular?”

    “I am not sure. Why?”

    “Because you are going to get us over to the musicians, and your are going to trade dance partners. Then I'm going to request a song. I'm thinking either a waltz or a tango. Oh, and if you hear Feliciana scream, that's your cue to leave.”

    Antonio gave her an odd look. “Did Gilbert rub off on you?”

    “No,” she said, smiling innocently. “He's just guaranteed an environment where I can do more. Now, waltz, tango, or something else?”

    Apparently accustomed to going along with schemes at a moments notice, Antonio gave her an answer as they made their way across the room to the musicians. When they got closer, Madeline was able to spot Lovina. She looked identical to Feliciana, despite the scowl set firmly into her features, and Madeline had to double check that Feliciana herself was still with Ludwig and Germania by the thrones.

    Lovina noticed them, her scowl deepening even more as they got reached the edge of the dancers. Madeline pulled Antonio out of the dance, striding over to the Italia native. She stopped a respectful distance away, putting a little space between herself and Antonio before dipping a curtsy.

    “Princess Lovina?” she inquired politely.

    Lovina folded her arms. “ _S_ _í_ _,_ what of it?”

    “I just thought you'd like a chance to dance is all,” she said, winking as she turned away.

    Madeline could hear the two going back and forth in hushed tones, Lovina’s accented speech littered with colorful words. Still, by the time she could ask the conductor to play something special, Antonio had managed to coax a reluctant Lovina out of her sulking nitch. She didn't miss the fact that Lovina's scowl had lightened up a good deal. There was even something that might be a tiny, ghost of a smile on her face.

    Feliciana was hanging off Ludwig's arm when she joined them, giggling as the song ended. "Ah, hello again! Are you doing okay? I was super exhausted when it was my turn. There's so many people to remember and they can be really big and scary."

    Cracking a patient smile, Madeline glanced up at Ludwig. He sighed, saying, "Not all of them, Feli. I thought we were over this." Then he glanced around, eyes narrowing. "Where's Gilbert?"

    "He's, uh, catching up with an old friend. I got bored. Is the punch good?"

    The current song ended as Madeline sipped the tart drink, but the one to follow wasn't quite like what had been playing all night. They'd kept to a general theme of waltz's and classical songs, traditional for Saxon and simple enough to dance to. What the musicians started on now, however, was a bit different. It didn't sound quite the same as the song was originally intended, since they were still using the same instruments, but the rhythm and tempo were unmistakable.

    "A tango?" asked Feliciana, her face lighting up. "I love the tango! Can we dance, Luddy? Please?"

    "Eh...I'm not.....Antonio? I thought he was under house arrest."

    "Really? I didn't know. It's a shame" said Madeline idly, sipping her punch. "Gilbert speaks highly of him. I'd like to meet him."

    Ludwig studied her, mouth slowly twisting into a wry smile. "Well, I suppose if the guards don't notice, we won't bother them."

    "Oh, Lovi looks happy, doesn't she? She hasn't smiled like that since we left Italia. Antonio makes her happy. Are you sure we can't take him off house arrest?"

    "He was an accomplice to rather....perverted, offences to a very important noble. Francis was lucky to walk away without any extreme bodily harm. It's only for another week, and she can visit him."

    Feliciana pouted. "You know Lovi's too stubborn for that." Then her face lit up again. "I'll just have to find a way to get her to the Madrid embassy."

    Madeline cracked a smile, shaking her head. Feliciana was a little flighty, but she had no shortage of optimism. She was also one of the only people oblivious enough to burst into Germania's office and insist Madeline would never be able to learn _anything_ without a stomach full of pasta. She would have complained more, but then she owed half of her rare breaks to the other girl.

    The tango was in full swing when Gilbert wandered back over. He grabbed one of the dainty-looking sandwiches from the refreshment table, then threw an arm around Ludwig's shoulders lazily. Ignoring the dirty look his brother gave him, he munched on the food, watching the dancers. Apparently, there were only a dozen people who knew how to tango. Antonio and Lovina were currently putting them to shame. Madeline had never learned the tango, but she never got tired of watching it. The dance was more popular in Italia and Madrid, but she'd seen it a few times back in Fantasha. It fascinated her, a thing meant to be as much a seduction as a dance.

    "Not bad, Birdie. But you know when the song ends it won't end well, right?"

    "Not if they have help," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

    "I think you're rubbing off on her, East," said Ludwig stiffly. "I don't like it."

    "But she made Lovi happy, Luddy!" Feliciana protested.

    "Yes, but she's bending the rules to do it Feli."

    "I don't know what you're talking about," said Madeline innocently, sipping her drink. "I happen to like this sort of music, I like the rhythm of it, even if I can't dance to it. Besides, I'm still very new here, and I haven't been out much because of lessons. Gilbert just introduced me to some friends, how am I to know if they're in trouble or not?"

    The albino cackled delightedly. Ludwig rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering, " _Mein Gott._ "

    Germania, silent until now, raised his eyebrows a little. "No, she had to of been like this to some degree before she met Gilbert. I suppose we should just be thankful you channel your nefarious energies so well."

    Still, none of the royals moved to intervene. Eventually, when the song did end, the guards finally seemed to spot Antonio. As they started to close in, swords drawn, Madeline glanced across the room. Lovina noticed them first, her scowl returning as she shoved Antonio away, pushing him back towards the balcony. It didn't take a genius to know even if he made a run for it, he wouldn't make it. They were just too far away from the doors.

    "Oh dear," she mumbled in English, swaying a little where she stood. Then, before she could think about it too much, she let her body go limp.

    As she predicted, Feliciana let out a piercing scream as she collapsed to the tiled floor, her glass shattering. It wasn't an overly pleasant fall, her hip would undoubtedly have a lovely purple blotch by morning, but at least she was able to get her arm between the floor and her head. Madeline kept her eyes closed, body as limp as possible. She did feel a little guilty about this, but it was the best she could do on short notice. At least the glass was empty, so it would make less of a mess. Vaguely, she wondered if it would even work. Surely they wouldn't fall for something like this, especially if they already knew she was planning something. She just hoped Gilbert wouldn't start laughing again.

    "Madeline!" Feliciana was shrieking loudly, most of it in Italian. The words she did understand consisted mostly of, "What's wrong? Madeline!"

    "Birdie!"

    "My lady! What happened?"

    "Get back, give her air! Where's Dr. Jaeger?"

    It was harder to masquerade as an unconscious person than she'd thought. The natural urge was to open her eyes, move them around, stiffen as someone picked her up. It sounded like Gilbert, but honestly she wasn't sure. Tonight was the closest she'd been to him in the last two weeks. Either way, _someone_ was propping her up, an arm cradled under her shoulders.

    "I'm here. What happened?"

    "I don’t know," Gilbert snapped angrily. "You tell me. She just collapsed."

    Fingers gently picked up her wrist, pressing to her pulse. A minute later the same man, who she assumed to be Dr. Jaeger, said, "Rapid pulse. Pale face. Carry her out of here. We need to get her out of that corset. I keep telling those maids not to tighten these things so much. Too much excitement and you have ladies dropping like flies."

    Madeline tensed briefly as she was lifted from the floor, but managed to force her muscles to relax again by the time she was cradled against a broad chest. The second arm came up under her knees, pinning her skirts in a modest position. Madeline even managed to let her head hang lifelessly, though this did mean her forehead ended up against his neck. Her breath hitched a little at the now familiar scent. It was the same one she'd been smelling for most of the night. A blend  of pine, leather, and musk paired with soft lavender laundry soap. It was strangely relaxing, at odds with the mood most often triggered by its source.

    She could hear Ludwig barking orders, sending people on their way and trying to get Feliciana to settle down. Madeline made a mental note to handle her excitability with care in the future. Maybe apologize later for scaring her so much.....either Feliciana very good at faking hysterics, or Madeline was a much better actor than she'd given herself credit for.

    Gilbert carried her out of the ballroom, but she wasn't sure where they went after that exactly. She heard them step through a second, normal sized door, but that was it. Approximately five steps later, she was gingerly lowered down onto a couch, a pillow maneuvered under her head. It was sweet, really. Either she was surrounded by good fakers, or he actually bought her act. Madeline thought it'd be the first one....she hoped, anyway.

    "Use the smelling salts, that should bring her around. I'll send a maid to help her with the corset."

    Madeline stiffened a little at that. She'd taken a small whiff of smelling salts before, and it wasn't an experience she'd enjoyed. As soon as the door clicked shut, her eyes flew wide open.

    Gilbert was kneeling next to the aptly named fainting couch, an uncorked bottle in one hand. He blinked, a surprised look crossing over her face. It hit her then that he really had believed it.

   "I'm fine," she said quickly, sitting up and holding up her hands. "Sorry. Did he make it out?"

    Slowly, frowning, Gilbert corked the bottle. "Who?"

    "Antonio."

    "Oh. _Ja_ , he's gone."

    "Oh. Good," she said, throwing her legs over the couch. It occurred to her he was speaking English, but opted not to point it out. "Do you think anyone would mind if we just left after this?"

    "You were faking?" he asked, ruby eyes narrowed.

    Madeline shifted on the couch, feeling a little guilty. "Yeah. I'm sorry if I worried you. I just wanted to help."

    Gilbert stood, taking the smelling salts back over to a small table. Madeline glanced around, deciding they were in a room dedicated for incidents like this. Couch, smelling salts, even a chair for someone to hover while the fainter recovered.

    The albino dropped into said chair, running a hand back through his hair. "So let the Awesome me get this straight. You pretended to pass out so my sister-in-law would scream bloody murder, and one of my best friends could get away without getting caught. You also managed to do it well enough to fool the Awesome me."

    Madeline bit her lip. "Um, yes?"

    He was mad. He had to be. He had every _right_ to be mad. Yes it was nice to know he cared enough to get worried, but it hadn't been nice on her part.

    She was so busy working herself up, Madeline started when he eventually spoke.

    "You're....you....

    Gilbert stood up abruptly, and she tensed as he strode back over to her. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't for him to take her face in his hands and kiss her forehead. When he pulled away, a wide grin was on his face.

    "You're awesome, you know that Birdie?"

    Madeline blinked, feeling her face go hot. "Um, I uh, I...."

    "Are corsets really that uncomfortable?" he asked, flopping back down into the chair. "I never thought about it much. I guess they're more popular in Fantasha."

    She opened her mouth, then closed it again. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't exactly complain that he could kiss her, even on the forehead, then go right back to acting normally. Maybe it was a blessing, a way to avoid the awkwardness.

    Cracking a smile, she said, "Yeah. I think so."

**Author's Note:**

> excusez-moi?- excuse me?  
> ¡Espere!- wait!  
> []  
> Please Review!


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